To the Bone
by Sandylee007
Summary: A horrible accident leaves Clint with life altering injuries. His friends and family try their hardest to help him. But will any amount of support be enough when he's lost a half of himself?       CLAURA, whole team involved           SIX SHOT         based on a 'SOS' collection story 'A Hawk Blown Apart' BUT stands alone
1. Sixth

A/N: PHEW! It's MUCH later than I should be up. But I couldn't go to bed before posting this. (grins) Here comes the mini-story I promised you!

First, though…!

DISCLAIMER: Yeeeeeeeah, right… Just checked. I still don't have the kind of money it'd take to own ANYTHING more than DVDs with Jeremy Renner on them. (Typing that HURTS, you know?)

WARNINGS: graphic description of injuries, language (Steve, I'm so sorry!), weirdness… anyone out there…?

Awkay, because I need to go to bed and I don't want to change my mind… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

 ** _To the Bone_**

* * *

Sixth

* * *

Reporter Elisha Mayer's big, brown eyes were full of genuine grief as she looked into the camera. From the ruins of what used to be a massive building wind blew dust to her long, nearly black hair. "… 51 people lost their lives in the explosion of the mall and the fire which followed. The cause of this devastating tragedy is currently unknown …"

51 people, and somehow Clint Barton wasn't one of them.

He lay in a hospital bed. Stared at the ceiling while the news reporter's voice echoed, not much more than static to him. White assaulted his eyes, and for some unexplainable season his attention became fixed on a tiny crack.

Clint didn't know what power, force or… something it was that kept him alive. Why he was still… around when so many other people weren't. Why he was still alive with half of him missing.

He didn't remember why he went to the mall anymore. Did it even matter? He remembered picking up a toy and looking at it. He began to turn around. And then…

Hands on him.

Pain.

Voices.

The first absolutely certain memory he had was Laura sitting beside his bed. Watching him with incredibly sad eyes. She told him that the medical personnel had no other choice but to amputate both his legs.

Clint couldn't remember the explosion, but he did remember – with nauseating accuracy – the sensation of being blown up to tiny little pieces.

Clint shivered, waking up from his gloomy thoughts, when an electric jolt of pain flashed through him. The young nurse who'd been treating his stump froze, her hazel eyes widening. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Clint shook his head and refused to look at her. It didn't make any difference what she did to him, really. He almost said as much but didn't. He didn't really feel like talking these days.

He didn't know how long passed, at least the nurse already moved on to what was left of his other leg. She was just finishing up when her colleague appeared, announcing that there was an emergency. The nurse left after a quick apology. He didn't have to look at her, he heard the pity in her voice and it was more than enough.

Shadows fell. One TV-program changed to another. Some ridiculous soap-opera began but he had no way of getting his hands on the remote that'd been left to the other side of the room. He took a deep breath that hurt, then turned his head. All of a sudden his mind was eerily focused.

The nurse had forgotten a pair of scissors to the table beside his bed. They were right there. Well within his reach.

Clint stared at them for a very long time. Unsure what, exactly, he was planning on doing. Someone came with food he had no desire to eat before he could make up his mind.

Clint continued to stare at the ceiling. He didn't let himself fall asleep. If he did he might've dreamt of running.

* * *

It wasn't a surprise that the Avengers' official psychiatrist was called in after that incident. Dr. Sarah Harris could've as well ran at a wall of bricks. The "I can't" Clint uttered was easily one of the most heartbreaking things she'd ever heard.

And no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't able to coax him into saying anything else.

When she left the room she found the Avengers and Laura from the hallway. It took great skill to hide her surprise when she noticed that Natasha allowed Laura to hold her hand for support. She took a deep breath. "I'm glad that you called me. He needs all the help he can get right now." In truth, Sarah wasn't sure if any amount of therapy would be enough. But she had to try.

She wasn't going to give up on that stubborn idiot without a fight, because the Clint Barton she knew never gave up, either.

Laura gulped and wiped her eyes. She seemed exhausted. "When I… When I first saw him… I couldn't recognize him." A one more tear rolled. "Sometimes I'm…" She cleared her throat and looked away, ashamed. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if that's really Clint."

"It is." Sarah sounded far more certain than she felt. She was glad. She held a small pause, letting the people in front of her pull themselves together. "I'm not going to give up on him, I promise. But right now he needs a moment to rest. In the meantime I'd like to have a chat with all of you."

* * *

Eventually Clint did fall asleep. He dreamt of fire. Of flames licking his skin, of a whole building crashing down on him. He dreamt of a black, shapeless monster that crawled across the floor with a sneer, and tore off both his legs while he watched.

Clint woke up to his own scream. Someone was holding his hand, he was too out of it to figure out who, and he clung to the touch like it was his lifeline. Then it disappeared, and medical professionals were there with the drugs. It didn't matter how loudly, desperately, he begged them to leave him alone, how many times he told them that he didn't want to sleep. Perhaps his speech wasn't even comprehensible. Whatever it was they gave him kicked in far too quickly.

At least he didn't have any more dreams.

* * *

Yet again Clint had no idea how much time passed by. One late evening Wanda was in the room, sleeping soundly, while a frowning doctor was looking at his patient files from a portable laptop. Something had been bugging Clint for a couple of days, since fool's hope began to stir its head from the sea of despair he'd been drowning into. He made sure that Wanda was asleep before opening his mouth. "I've been thinking… Even for someone in my… situation… There are prosthetics, right?"

The doctor sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. And it felt like the world had been blowing up to pieces again. "Mr. Barton, I'm truly sorry, but… With the kind of nerve-damage you have… options…"

No more walking… Running… No more being an Avenger… The life he had…

There were a lot more empty words. Clint ignored them all. He lay there in his bed, all there was still left of him. Stared at the ceiling. And felt like he'd been sinking into an ice-cold black hole.

* * *

Clint was under the influence of a lot of medication. Most of the time he wondered if he was awake at all. Often he wished he wasn't.

One afternoon Natasha was there when they brought in his lunch. She watched him push away the tray. And decided that she'd seen enough. "So that's your master plan?" Her tone was openly mocking. "You're going to starve yourself to death?"

Clint didn't answer. Instead he focused on the crack once more. It was a beautiful shape, really. Almost like a star.

"You were lucky enough to survive what 51 other people didn't. You got hurt, badly. But you're still alive, and we're not going to let you throw it away."

Clint turned his head. The crack didn't look beautiful anymore. Outside the sky was gray, miserable. "What if I don't want to be?"

Frost seemed to fill the room. Then Natasha slammed something against his chest, barely missing his injuries. "The next time you let something like that out of your mouth… I'm going to make you repeat the words to them."

Clint turned his head with a frown. Grabbed whatever it was she gave him. It was a picture of all his three kids.

"They don't care how many legs, arms and heads you have." Natasha's voice was sharper than any blade. "You're their dad. They love you. They need you. No matter how you look." Only a careful ear caught how close to losing control over her emotions she was. "And I'm their godmom. Honestly, I have no clue what the hell that's supposed to mean. But I do know that I'm not going to let their dad slip away from them. I'm not going to let them lose you."

Clint didn't know how much there was left of him for his family to get back. Emotionally, more than physically. How much of a dad could he be, _like this_?

Natasha left at some point. He had no idea if she tried to talk to him before that. He kept staring at the picture of his children through the night, and none of the nurses visiting his room tried to take it away. Maybe they saw something he didn't.

* * *

A couple of days later Clint had a phone pressed against his ear. Laura sat right there beside him, holding his hand. It gave him enough courage to utter the words. "Dr. Harrish, hi. I, ah…" He swallowed thickly. "I think I'm ready for that session, now."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: GOSH…! Poor, poor Clint. So much healing to be done. And the road ahead… It's NOT going to be easy. I'm afraid that we've only scratched the surface. (winces)

BUT, even so… Would you like to read some more? Or should I just delete this and pretend that this never existed…?

In any case, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading! And who knows. Maybe I'll see ya again.

Take care!


	2. Fifth

A/N: PHEW! Finishing up this chapter ended up taking DAYS. But here we are, at last. Yay…?

THANK YOU, SO MUCH, for all the reviews, listings, love and support! It means THE WORLD to me that you're so eager to read further. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've kept you waiting too long… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride, although it'll be sad.

 **OFFICAL THEME SONG OF THIS STORY – 'Angel By the Wings' from Sia**

* * *

Fifth

* * *

Clint's recovery, both emotional and physical, was a mad roller-coaster ride. One afternoon he was just about to lose it, frustrated by a talk with his doctor who had only crushing verdicts, when he received visitors. Such who came bearing gifts.

The whole team and Laura crammed into his room. As though sensing his need for comfort his wife sat beside him and kissed his forehead gently. "Hey, grumpy", she murmured, squeezing his hand.

Clint grinned, some of the many lines on his forehead smoothening. "Hey, honey." He sniffed. "Is that…?"

"The best of McDonald's. My treat. I'm feeling generous today", Tony declared with a ridiculously wide grin of triumph. Like the junk food was the greatest treasure in the world. "I don't know about you, Feathers, but we're sick of the crap they serve here as food." The man poked at his ribs. "It's time to get some meat on those bones."

Clint blinked twice. He hadn't even realized how much weight he'd lost. It was like he'd been turning into a ghost, since… He chased away the gloomy thoughts with a fake-smirk. "I'd murder for some nuggets." In truth he didn't want to eat. But everyone seemed to be expecting him to take a step forward and he couldn't keep them waiting forever. He could do this, be Hawkeye instead of the now shattered Clint Barton, for their sakes.

Happiness, love and chatter filled the room. Along with his aching heart. Laura's hand didn't leave his for even a second. His body and entire life had been blown up to bits. But for those few moments stolen from the cruel universe he began to really, honestly believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay eventually. He almost believed, until the roller-coaster headed downwards only days later.

* * *

For pretty much the first time since… _the thing_ Clint had fallen asleep without the aid of medication, drained by a session with Dr. Harris. He dreamt of the Farm. Of his kids. Until the sound of Lila's excited giggle transformed into such a scream that _pained_ every single cell in his whole body.

Clint's eyes flew open and he panted desperately several times, still unhealed bones screaming in protest as his chest expanded violently. His head spun, unable to make sense of his surroundings. He looked around frantically, his eyes wide and wild.

Lila… Where was his daughter? He needed to see her. He needed to make sure that his child was okay.

Somewhere nearby a little girl screamed again, the door separating him from her muffling the words. She sounded desperate. And absolutely terrified.

No amount of tubes and wires held Clint back. He didn't even pause to wonder why he was connected to them in the first place. He tore off everything that seemed to be restraining him. Ignoring the fact that his whole body was in flames of agony he pushed himself into motion. His arm felt like it was being torn off when he put his weight on it, and he bit his lip until it bled to avoid screaming. He didn't wait for the world to stop spinning in front of his eyes. Not when the child screamed again, then began to cry like her heart was breaking.

Clint forgot everything but the fact that he was needed. _Everything_. He threw himself out of the bed – and fell. Hard. It hurt more than any amount of gunshots or stab wounds. His line of vision went white for an unclear amount of time. He bit through it until he tasted blood and swallowed back the pain-induced nausea. Hearing the child's continued whimpers he began to struggle to get up.

Which was when reality crashed down on him with the force of a tsunami.

He wouldn't be able to get up. Or walk. Let alone run. Because he didn't have his legs anymore. Because he'd never, ever have legs again.

His ears became hyper-sensitive to everything. The child… The screaming machine in his room… The sounds from the hallway… They were so loud that they made him feel like the whole world was crashing down on him. He pressed his hands against his ears as tightly as he could without feeling like his skull might explode.

He was in no state to notice the medical professionals barging into the room. Nor did he register the injection they delivered to sedate him. The only thing that existed to him was the sound of the little girl's pain. And the fact that there was nothing he could do to help. That he'd never be able help anyone again.

He couldn't breathe. It felt like there was an elephant sitting on his chest, and each painful exhale burst out with an unhealthy wheeze. Clint, of course, heard none of it. All that fit into his head was that he _couldn't breathe_.

The whole world fell away, and it was a relief.

* * *

Tony had been awake for forty-eight hours. (He slept even worse than usual when he was stressed out. Not worried, thank you very much – Starks didn't worry. Stressed out.) He needed coffee, desperately. And Clint had been out cold, knocked down by a wince-worthy amount of pain relief. It should've been perfectly harmless to step outside for… what, twenty minutes to stop by at the cafeteria.

He was too exhausted to remember that this was Clint Barton he was dealing with.

The second Tony re-entered the room he stopped. Stared. And dropped the remains of the liquid he'd wanted so badly.

There was a puddle of blood on the floor.

Tony wasn't exactly polite when he demanded answers. And it wasn't until later, much later, he paused to wonder why the hospital staff even gave him information. (Apparently he owed Nick Fury a favor, which was always a unnerving spot to be in.) He was told that Clint had a bad panic-attack and fell from his bed. The archer's already injured arm suffered a brunt, as did his stumps. It was impossible to tell how badly the still healing internal injuries were aggravated until the man had been examined properly.

After all the fighting Clint had done just to make it… After all the painstaking recovery… And in just twenty minutes…

Tony had no memory trace of how he ended up to the waiting room. He was fairly sure that someone asked him if there was someone he could call. Maybe that was why he had a phone to his ear. Pepper picked up before he had the time to sort out his thoughts. " _Hey. What's wrong?_ " Her voice was thick from sleep but she was clearly very much awake and alert. He felt a stab of guilt at how used to nasty night-time calls she'd grown with him.

Tony swallowed thickly. He didn't like how his eyes felt. "I, eh… I get that we're not… _okay_ yet. But, I just…" He wiped his face roughly with his free hand. "I… guess I needed to hear your voice… or something." If he was talking the anyone else he would've felt stupid.

There was still a lot of unresolved mess between them. Stuff they had to sort out with just the two of them and with the help of Dr. Sarah Harris. But no amount of crap could've overshadowed how much they meant to each other. " _I'll be there in half an hour._ " She made it there in twenty-five minutes.

* * *

When Natasha called Laura to let her know what happened to Clint the mother of three was alone. Cooper couldn't sleep, just like Clint couldn't when the man was stressed out. Lila was suffering from nightmares, a scarily high fever and the worst flu the child had ever had. Nate was crying miserably almost constantly, often without a reason. And Laura felt like she'd been torn apart, having to handle it all alone.

Then, as though things weren't miserable enough, the twinges began. Laura shrugged them off as something stress related. Until she went to the bathroom and saw the red stains. Tears filled her eyes as realization crashed through like a tsunami.

She'd never noticed that she was late, didn't see any signs, and now…

She'd worked so hard to stay strong. For Clint, for the kids. She'd soldiered on, telling herself that at least it couldn't get any worse. Now the weight of everything finally brought her to her knees.

Laura emerged from the toilet an hour later. Wished her son goodnight, stayed with her daughter until she finally fell asleep and sang her baby to sleep. And told herself that she'd have the time to grieve and let her heart shatter to pieces tomorrow.

* * *

Clint began to float towards consciousness slowly. It took him a long moment to realize that he was actually awake. And then a razor-sharp flash of a memory attacked him mercilessly.

A little girl… Terrified, in pain, maybe in danger… _Lila…!_

The panic which followed was so intense that it took his breath away. He was struggling to get to a sitting position before he'd had the time to process it. Only to discover that a gentle hand was enough to stop him.

"Shh, shh…" Wanda's voice was soft. He had no idea if she was using her powers, but her gentle tone seemed to wrap around him like a blanket. "It's okay. She's safe, I promise. She's got a flu, though. That's why Laura can't be here." There was a pause. "You've…" She swallowed loudly. "You've had a rough couple of days, but everything's okay. You just need to take it easy for a while."

Clint shook his head, finally managing to open his eyes. Wanda looked absolutely exhausted, which only solidified some of his jumbled thoughts. He had to get away from this place. Him staying here… It wasn't doing anyone any good. "… easy, my ass", he mumbled, hating how thick his tongue felt in his mouth. "… wanna go home." It was a ridiculous idea, some distant, still lucid part of him recognized. He had half of him missing, a lot of injuries were still healing and he wouldn't even be able to get inside the Farm anymore. Let alone into the bedroom upstairs. But he wanted to go home, so badly that it hurt more than anything else.

He wanted his home. He wanted Laura in his arms. He wanted his kids. He wanted all of them where it felt safe. He didn't feel safe here.

Wanda's eyes were sad and apologetic. "I know." A thought crossed her mind, and she looked at him with a degree of uncertainty. "You trust me, right?"

Clint nodded without hesitation. He wasn't sure about her powers. The scars Loki left ran too deep. But he did trust her. So when she placed her hands tenderly to both sides of his head he didn't flinch.

And all of a sudden he saw them. Lila, her cheeks flushed from fever and crying, sleeping soundly under her blanket, wearing one of his shirts. Cooper testing his toy-bow and arrows, struggling visibly to hold back his emotions. And Nate… Oh god, Nate was already trying to walk…!

"They miss you", Wanda whispered, her voice breaking. "Every bit as much as you miss them. You all just need to hold on a little bit longer."

Clint gulped hard against the lump in his throat. His heart was racing and cracking. All of a sudden those beautiful images he still kept seeing felt impossibly far away. "I… I don't think I'll ever be the daddy they're missing." The one who'd sworn to teach Cooper archery. The one who ran around after Lila and took her to a piggy bag ride. The one who danced to silly songs and sang along, badly, with baby Nate squealing with joy in his arms. And what about Laura? What kind of a husband was he, like _this_?

"You may not be the same. But you're still their daddy, and her husband. And they'll love you, no matter what." Wanda sounded old beyond her years as she took his hand. "So hold on, be patient. You haven't lost them and they haven't lost you."

Clint tried to believe her.

Wanda seemed to sense that he wasn't convinced, because she went on. "Oh, and I can do better than that speech." She took a phone, dialed numbers and offered the item to him.

He accepted the offering hesitantly. Just before he would've asked what she was doing Lila's voice whispered to his ear. " _Daddy?_ "

He closed his eyes. It didn't stop them from burning madly. "Hey, sweetheart", he rasped. "I… I'm so sorry, that I've been away for so long."

" _I miss you_ ", the child whimpered. Then coughed hard. " _I'm sick, daddy._ "

"I heard. I wish…" He cleared his throat when his voice threatened to break. "I wish I could be there with you." He did, from the bottom of his heart. "But… I've got a bedtime story for you instead." He knew that she found it hard to sleep when she was unwell. One of the far too many things she inherited from him.

" _Oh?_ " Lila mumbled, sounding exhausted and excited at the same time.

"Yup", Clint confirmed, keeping his eyes closed. If he really tried he could imagine himself there with her, beside her, where he should've been. "It's about the bravest and most beautiful princess in the whole wide world…"

* * *

Eventually, inevitably, Clint was introduced to the item he never wanted to see again. Unfortunately he knew that it'd always be a part of his life, now. Which didn't make facing it any more painless.

The wheelchair standing in his room seemed to be sneering at him.

"Do you want to try it?" Natasha inquired.

He shook his head immediately. His stomach formed actual knots at even the thought. He couldn't… He wasn't ready to…

"Okay." Her tone was cool and composed, and he clung to the comfort. "Do you want me to take it away?"

Clint hesitated. Then shook his head. If he had to face it then he'd face it. But he wasn't touching it. Not yet, maybe not ever.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Again unhesitant, Clint shook his head. He had no idea what he wanted. But he knew that he couldn't be alone right now. Not with the thoughts circling around his head.

Natasha nodded. She didn't say another word even when he leaned his head against her shoulder. Just stayed there, firm and solid as a rock.

Eventually a nurse peered into the room, to discover that Clint had fallen asleep leaning on Natasha's shoulder. The redhead gifted the arrival with a sharp, protective glare. The nurse retreated with a smile.

* * *

Clint fought. Fiercely, with everything he had. Defied everything the medical professionals and his friends tried to tell him and soldiered on with minimum pain relief. It was better than having another… _episode_. He pushed his body to the extreme, trying to will it to recover faster. Did _anything_ , the desperate dream of a home driving him forward.

Until, after what had to be some of the hardest weeks of his entire life, he was handed the brochure of a rehabilitation center. He was told that it was an ideal place for someone in his condition. Clint felt like he'd been shot.

It was Steve who found him first. Minutes after he'd smashed everything he could get his hands on. Apart from the brochure, which stood on the table beside his bed, mocking him. By then he was sweating and gasping desperately.

Sadness flashed in the soldier's eyes, but there was no pity. Somehow that was tolerable. "What do you need?" the Captain asked, soft and firm at the same time.

Clint gulped. Again and again. And wheezed. "I need… I've gotta… get out of here… I have to… get out of here…!"

Of course he couldn't exactly leave. But instead of pointing out as much Steve nodded. The Captain picked up a wheelchair from where he'd hurled it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Getting him to it wasn't quite so effortless. Clint was stiff and uncertain, Steve had no idea what he was doing and seemed afraid of hurting him. But they managed. Steve's disarming smile was enough to fool any member of staff from attempting to stop their great escape. Which took them to the garden outside the hospital.

It was raining heavily. The air filled Clint's lungs painfully, seemed to bring him back to life from the numbness he'd fallen into. He gasped yet again, each inhale like a knife and a caress all at once. And let everything pour down on him along with the rain.

If Steve noticed the tears the rain disguised, the soldier never pointed it out.

* * *

Five days later it was time to start another phase in Clint's seemingly endless recovery. At least he headed out of the hospital, and to Misty Meadows. The archer hated even the name. But when he saw the desperate hope on the faces of his friends and Laura, he knew just how much he was fighting for and forced himself to carry on bravely.

When it was time to go only Laura was there. Pale and tired, struggling just as much as he was. Clint would've given anything in the world to get to take that weight from her shoulders. Weight which he put there. The silence that lingered between and around them was heavy, suffocating.

A man came to take whatever little possessions he had. The stranger would've helped him, too, but that was where Laura stepped in. Hearing his protective, ferocious hiss made his heart thud in a way he'd missed immensely.

In the car that'd take them to what'd, apparently, be Clint's temporary home the silence continued. Eventually it became unbearable. He couldn't take missing her when she was right there beside him and wondered if she felt the same. It was impossible to tell which one moved first, but suddenly they were holding hands. Tightly, desperately.

They were in the eye of a hurricane, not out of it. But they were together. Holding on to each other for dear life, and praying that the grip wouldn't break. If it did they'd both be lost.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh dear gosh…! It's not bad enough that Clint's having such tough time. They all are. (whimpers) Will things FINALLY start to look up, or will there be a 'worse before it gets better'?

THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS describe Clint's time at the rehabilitation facility, as well as how his friends and family continue to cope with this.

Awkay, I REALLY need to head to bed…! Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	3. Fourth

A/N: PHEW! Wrapping up this chapter took AGES. (chuckles) BUT, here we are, AT LAST!

Before we get to business, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your amazing reviews, love and support! You guys are AMAZING! (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting too long… Let's go! I REALLY HOPE that you'll enjoy the ride.

JUST, WATCH OUT! This'll get a bit bumpy. (winces apologetically)

 **Edited due to a hilarious typo. (giggles)**

* * *

Fourth

* * *

For months – two, three, he didn't know for sure and preferred not trying to find out – Clint's whole life had been trapped into his hospital room and some very limited areas outside it. As soon as he was able to think properly it began to drive him insane with claustrophobia. But at the same time it was oddly comforting.

His new physical appearance… It was something he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to. And far worse was the pity he'd already received from a lot of medical professionals. It was to be expected that those looks would only get worse once he'd be exposed to the people of the outside world. So staying in the bubble-wrap of the hospital ward… It was almost comforting, no matter how much he hated it.

He was done being a circus freak.

If someone asked Clint later what the rehabilitation facility he was dragged into looked like when he first arrived, he wouldn't have been able to tell. He didn't want to know if it was because of shock or brain-damage, mainly because he knew his luck. But he would remember, for the rest of his life, what he faced when Laura wheeled him in.

At the massive room on the right side of the main entrance lunch-time was just starting. Which meant that almost the large building's whole population was there. It was a rather closed up community, which meant that everyone's attention was instantly on him. So many pairs of eyes he was far from comfortable with. He might've been able to cope with the looks. But the air of pity, so thick it was suffocating, felt unbearable.

A man in his late forties with shortcut dark hair and pale-blue eyes, missing his right leg, stared from the doorway of the kitchen area. Watched, most likely imagining that Clint couldn't see him from the corner of his eye, and shook his head. Then began whispering to the man stood beside him, who nodded grimly in agreement. Even without reading lips the archer would've known exactly what was said.

His chest tightened, trapping every single breath. His line on vision began to tunnel. Laura's hand felt unnaturally heavy when it landed on his shoulder. "Clint?"

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't bear _this_. Couldn't stay here. But he couldn't go home, either, could he? He was trapped here.

' _Run_ ', a voice in his head that sounded too much like a ghost from the past sneered. ' _Just run away. Isn't that what you do best?_ '

By then a couple of people who worked in his new prison had made it to the scene. They approached too quickly, grabbed him and the chair without waiting for his permission. And seemed to think that Laura was the problem, because they were telling her to stay away and let them look after him.

Her protests tore at Clint's desperately racing heart, because he wasn't able to do a thing to soothe her. Her voice seemed to come from somewhere a million miles away. He couldn't feel her hand in his anymore. As his vision tunneled it was just him in the dark, like a ship lost at a night-time sea.

* * *

Laura wore a nurse's uniform because it would've been too much of a risk to be publicly known as Clint's wife. Even to the staff of his hospital she was just a friend among others. Because despite his current condition he still had his enemies. And they wouldn't hesitate to strike now that he was unable to defend anyone. It was something she would've never, ever mentioned out loud but knew haunted a lot of her husband's waken moments.

She maintained a professional front so well that no one even noticed their joined hands. But she was only a human being. And when she saw how the place and all those people were getting to Clint all she wanted was to grab him and get him away from there. Which was exactly what she proceeded to do, even if she knew that she wouldn't be able to take him home.

She never got the chance to. Instead two members of the rehabilitation center's staff were taking him further into the building while the third blocked her path. There was apology but also annoyance on the younger woman's face. "Laura, I appreciate you escorting him here. But you need to let us take over now."

Laura felt a vicious, nearly unbearable urge to punch the woman. She already balled a fist and saw the exact spot where she wanted to strike it. Until her phone rang. Choosing to ignore the infuriating being beside her she picked up. "Yeah?" Sharper than she'd intended but she chose not to dwell on it.

" _I, ah… I'm so sorry to call._ " Wanda did sound incredibly sorry. She knew perfectly what was going on today. " _But Coop just threw up._ "

Laura wanted to scream. Wanted to throw up. Wanted to tear something to pieces. Instead she nodded. "Don't worry." With years of experience as a mom she pushed aside her own distress and sounded comforting. "I'll be there soon." She took a deep breath after hanging up, fighting past the intense squirming in the pit of her stomach. It took a lot of effort to face the woman she disliked despite not knowing a thing about her. "I have to go. Just… Look after him." Her tone was pleading, and she had a nasty feeling that the tears she could barely suppress were audible.

The younger woman nodded with a genuine smile. Maybe she wasn't so infuriating, after all. "We will", she swore.

It was one of the hardest things Laura had ever done. To walk away and leave Clint, knowing how badly he would've needed her. To trust his care into the hands of strangers. But there was nothing she could do for him at the moment. And their kids needed her. She knew where her husband wanted her to be and it gave her a little strength.

Still, as she walked away it felt like it was just her in the dark, like a ship lost at a night-time sea.

* * *

Clint had very vague idea of what was going on around him. In truth he didn't even care very much. People tried to coax him out of his room. He was done with the pitying looks. They brought him food. When he refused to eat they gave him medication that made him feel incredibly drowsy. Usually it would've terrified him but now he welcomed it. At least the drugs dragged him into deep, dreamless slumber. If he was particularly lucky he even dreamt of walking and running, of being back home.

Every now and then he felt someone there with him. He had no idea what time of the day it was when he drifted close to consciousness and heard Tony's voice. "… finally back in the land of the living, Feathers?"

Clint shook his head, making himself feel dizzy even though his eyes were closed.

"Okay." Tony shifted, unsure or just trying to get comfortable. Maybe both. When what could've been a minute or a day passed without a reaction from him the billionaire sighed. "Look, Clint… You need to stop this, okay? Because… Because you're still alive, when you shouldn't be, and… We can't lose you to yourself, okay? You don't… You don't get to do that to us."

Clint wanted to promise that he wouldn't. Promise that of course he'd keep fighting, because it was what he'd been doing all his life, since the day he was born. But he didn't have the strength to even open his mouth, or eyes. The darkness pulling him under was too strong.

He'd almost drifted away when he felt something he hadn't known to expect. A hand grabbing his, slowly and hesitantly. When did Tony move? "Just… I need to know that you're alive, okay? A tiny squeeze and I'll leave you alone." The Iron Man sounded far younger than his age, more vulnerable than the archer had ever heard him. Perhaps that was what gave the ailing man the push he needed.

Clint squeezed back, feebly but still.

What was that noise? "I, ah… Thanks." Tony sounded hoarse and cleared his throat. "Okay, enough of the embarrassing chick-flick moment. Get some sleep. Maybe you feel better when you wake up." It was said with almost child-like innocence and hope.

The darkness swallowed Clint in whole before he could even wish he shared that fool's hope.

* * *

Cooper was ill for the total of three days. And was every bit as good of a patient as his dad. At least juggling with three kids, one of which was sick, kept Laura too busy to constantly miss her husband and worry about him.

It was on the morning of the second day there was knock on the door. Laura was wary, because she hadn't been expecting visitors. She blinked three times, slowly, upon finding Natasha and Wanda.

"Stark's driving us insane", Natasha announced. "And Lila sent a message from your phone, saying that she misses her aunties. Do you think we could crash here for a couple of days?"

Laura had been fighting a war to keep it together for Clint and the kids. But now… Something about this moment pushed her over the edge. She burst into tears.

* * *

Eventually the staff of the hellhole got sick of waiting. They hauled Clint to a wheelchair and dragged him to a therapist. He barely tolerated Dr. Harris and this was a stranger. Where was Dr. Harris?

It was like the doctor read his mind. "Dr. Harris offered to come and see you. But I think it's for the best that I treat you myself, now, to help you settle in. For as long as you're our guest."

Guest? Was she kidding? More like a prisoner. He was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open enough to see his opponent. A woman in her early fifties with pale-brown eyes, hideous glasses and wild, blonde hair looked back at him. "I'm Dr. Amos." When he gave no response, other than a slow blink that almost left his eyes closed, she continued, an impatient look on her face. "I've heard that you haven't been adjusting."

Adjusting? Adjusting? He lost half of himself. And a million things he'd been dreaming of. He was overwhelmed and exhausted, felt like he was sinking into quicksand. He could immediately tell that this woman wouldn't be able to pull him out of it.

He needed time. He needed to sleep. He needed help. He needed hope. He needed to get away from here, where every little thing reminded him constantly of everything he'd never get back. But how was he going to ask for any of that? "… home …" The word was so quiet that even he nearly missed it. It was also the first thing he uttered since coming here.

Dr. Amos looked at him with surprise. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

Clint licked his lips. They were so dry they were cracked. "'wanna go home."

Dr. Amos gave him one of those hateful pitying looks. "I'm sorry, Clint. But you won't be going home for a very long time. Don't worry. We'll take a very good care of you."

Clint felt like his heart had been torn from his chest. Which was ridiculous, because of course he'd already known that he wasn't going anywhere. His gaze traveled to the room's window. Outside a hard wind blew. And high up a bird that looked like a hawk struggled desperately against it. Eventually the breeze seemed to win and pushed the animal somewhere he couldn't see it. "Okay."

Dr. Amos smiled brightly, not knowing how worrying Clint Barton admitting defeat was.

* * *

It was past dinner time. Baby Nate finally fell asleep in his mom's arms after crying for thirty minutes. Cooper retreated to his room for homework, and Laura couldn't avoid noticing how alarmingly quiet her son had become. Even more withdrawn than he was… _before_. Lila, younger and beginning to adapt to the new situation but clearly a little sad, started drawing. A tiny smile was coaxed when Natasha accompanied her.

Apparently today was one of those days when they all missed Clint a little more than usual. Laura should know. She missed him too.

Deciding that she needed a breather to gather herself, she headed to the porch. Only to discover that someone had the same idea. Wanda sat there with a thoughtful look on her face, and appeared old beyond her years. "I think I want to have a place like this, someday. It's so peaceful here."

Laura couldn't help but smile. "You still think so with the three beasts?" Her eyes lingered on the view spreading around them. Even now it provided her with some much-needed serenity.

"I noticed that you've been looking for someone to renovate this place."

Laura nodded. "Yeah." She didn't know when Clint would be physically ready to come back. But this, doing what little she could to make it possible… It kept her sane.

"I'm sure Tony would be more than happy to help." Wanda lifted a hand when unsaid words lingered in the air. "I know, I know. But at least let him recommend someone."

"Okay." Laura focused on the yard, and pursed her lips in effort to avoid troubling thoughts. "We need an apple tree."

"You do", Wanda agreed. "And a dog. Clint would spoil the poor thing rotten."

Laura could actually imagine it in her mind. She and Clint sitting under an apple tree. Their kids and a dog running around. That lovely mental image gave her a great deal of comfort. Until something unexpected happened.

A sharp slash of pain, going from her abdomen to all over her body, ravishing her whole being.

Laura gasped and swayed, alarm spreading through like wildfire. _What the…?!_ She didn't get the chance to finish that thought before another assault came. She whimpered and leaned against a wall, barely able to keep herself upright.

Wanda frowned. Fright danced in the girl's once again young eyes. "Are you alright?"

Laura felt the urge to utter something unpleasant. She balled her fist and growled, the sound rumbling from deep within her throat. The anticipation of what might happen next was somehow even worse than the pain.

The next step, apparently, was the feel of something warm and wet traveling down her thigs. As alarmed as she was humiliated, Laura looked down slowly. There was a small puddle of clear-colored liquid. At first she wondered dazedly if she wet herself, until she realized that the puddle had no odor. There was also some blood staining it.

Her stomach had been aching on and off all day. She hadn't thought much about it, blaming it on stress. Now… Now she thought _a lot_ about it.

Because she finally knew what she was going through. A while ago she thought that she had a miscarriage, when she hadn't even realized she'd been pregnant. She hadn't gained any weight, which wasn't a surprise with how little she'd been eating under all the stress. She hadn't had cravings because most of the time she hadn't felt like eating at all. She hadn't felt movements because her stomach had been twisting and turning and knotting from stress. She hadn't taken any vitamins, let alone undergone any examinations because there wasn't supposed to be a reason to. Worse yet, she hadn't even seen a doctor. She hadn't had the time.

And now she was about to have a baby.

* * *

Clint could be a phenomenal actor when he wanted to be. Eventually, when his only options were to obey or end up back into a hospital, he started showing up for the meals. He arrived every time, although those horrific events were his worst nightmare. He could've sworn that he felt several pairs of eyes on him, watching with pity and disgust. He ate whatever little he could as quickly as possible and fled. But the second he made it to his room the emotional strain got the better of him. More often than not he threw up what had to be more than he consumed, then panted and wheezed, desperate for a proper breath. They were the worst panic attacks he'd ever had in his life, left him drained and humiliated, defeated.

He knew that he needed help, no matter how little he liked admitting it. But he'd already put his friends and especially Laura through too much, so he couldn't burden them with something so idiotic. With something he should've been able to control. And trusting the members of his prison's staff? Not an option. So he soldiered on alone. Fought against the quicksand pulling him under, even though he knew on a level of reason that it only made him sink faster.

Today was the day when he finally hit the bottom.

Clint wasn't even close to having caught his breath and his senses were hyper aware of everything. The cold tiles under his trembling hands. The reek of vomit. The rain beating the window of his room. He was trembling miserably, each exhale and inhale a war he barely won.

The last thing he needed was to hear his father's voice in his head. ' _Pathetic. You're pathetic._ '

Clint gritted his teeth so hard that it hurt. His eyes burned like there was acid in them. "… 't up…", he hissed.

' _Pathetic. Useless. A disappointment. Isn't that what you've always been? Look at you. A cripple whimpering and trembling on a bathroom floor. How can something like you be my son?_ '

Clint tasted blood and felt a hint of pain that barely registered when he gritted his teeth again and bit his lip. Something warm and moist traveled down his cheeks. Was it blood? Because it felt like his skull was split in half. "SHUT UP!"

' _You'll never be more than this. Look at yourself! What use are you to the world anymore?_ '

Clint punched the wall. Hard and swiftly, before he even consciously decided to do so. It hurt, a lot. But it also cleared his head. Almost. For a second.

' _…_ _disappointment …_ '

Another punch.

' _…._ _useless …_ '

Punch. There was a sickening sound when bone got damaged. Clint screamed at the top of his lungs, using oxygen he didn't really have.

' _… You'll never be more than this …_ '

He struck the wall again, staining it with blood. When the voice threatened to echo once more he repeated the assault. Again. And again. And again…

* * *

Laura couldn't have the person she wanted the most there with her. But at least she had the next best thing. Natasha didn't panic or lose control of the unexpected situation. Wanda was left to look after the kids while the two older women headed towards a hospital. Laura was about to be pushed towards an examination room when a ridiculously young, haughty looking man appeared to block the redhead's path. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but…"

"She's coming along", Laura hissed, with every bit of venom she could muster. "Or I'm…" She groaned through what had to be a contraction. "… having this fucking baby right here… in this hallway."

The man seemed to believe her. He blanched, then groaned. "Fine. But this is against every protocol", he piped out. "I'll have to…"

"Thank you." Natasha Romanoff didn't appreciate pointless babbling. Or protocols. Laura was reminded why she liked her so much.

Apparently Laura was thirty or thirty-one weeks along. The baby seemed to be healthy, those weeks considered, but was incredibly tiny. The medical professionals were as helpless as she was when they took her to a delivery room. They couldn't stop the unhealthily stubborn baby's much too early journey, nor could they operate on her with how things had already advanced. It was too late to stop whatever might happen next.

"Alright, love. I can already see the baby's head", a gentle, unfamiliar female voice announced. "A few more pushes and this'll all be over. One… Two…"

Laura's howl of rage, agony and determination drowned out number three. A wave of pain hit her. Along with a tsunami of memories.

The pain, when they were certain that they'd lost Clint, for a while…

The pain, when she had to see him for the first time, when she realized that pieces of him had indeed been lost, inside and out…

The pain when she imagined that she lost the baby…

The pain of knowing that she might still lose the baby…

The pain of having to leave Clint into that place, of not having him with her right now…

Compared to all that this was _nothing_.

Laura screamed and pushed again. And again. And again. Using all her pent-up rage against the whole universe to bring the far too tiny being into the world.

Where there should've been a cry, or at least a tiny mew, there was only silence. And the hurried words and steps of medical professionals. Laura panted from something beyond exhaustion, tears shimmering in her eyes. The whole world was spinning around her, and her eyelids felt incredibly heavy.

"It's a girl." Silence. "Laura?" Silence.

Until the shrill alarm of hospital machinery.

* * *

Out of all the available members of the team Tony was the fastest to reach the facility after the call came. Bracing himself for anything, the billionaire confronted a visibly shaken, far too young nurse waiting for him. "What the hell happened?" He didn't bother even trying to control his tongue.

The nurse, Bianca apparently, swallowed, apology in her big, blue eyes. "We… He had a breakdown. We needed to medicate and restrain him, for his own safety."

Tony's stomach lurched. If he had time to waste, he would've snarled just how bad of a decision that was. "Where is he?"

"In his room." The girl shifted with discomfort. "It's not…"

Tony was done listening to her voice. He rushed forward, and for once in his life he wasn't too proud to admit that he panicked. Just a little.

The lights in Clint's bathroom had been switched off but he could smell the blood. It did very unpleasant things to his stomach and he gulped hard. Then focused on the prone, painfully still form lay in the room's bed. Clint wasn't supposed to be still, ever. The restraints trapping the archer's wrists were hideous and seemed too tight. Red stained them from how hard the man fought them before losing the battle against medication. There were thick, even more stained bandages wrapped around the man's hands. Apparently there'd even been fractures. Everything told that Clint put up a mighty fight. But at the moment he just lay there, head turned away from the room's door. The sight was painful, almost more than Tony could take.

Tony had to gather himself for a while before he managed to approach. "Hey. I heard that you caused quite the hassle today. Wanna talk about it?" No answer. Under different circumstances he might've rolled his eyes. At the moment it was harder than he liked to not cry. "Of course you don't. I guess you want me to get out, don't you? Well, too bad. Because I'm not going anywhere."

Something about Clint's silence and stillness was getting unnerving. Tony frowned, his blood running cold. "Barton?" Nothing. "Clint?"

By then he'd reached his friend, saw the other's face. Saw the unhealthy pallor. Saw that Clint was barely breathing. And when he tested with far from steady fingers he found an absolutely terrifying pulse. The man's skin didn't feel right, either.

What Tony experienced, right there… It was definitely sheer, utter panic. "WE NEED HELP, HERE!"

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: So… Yeah. That wasn't nice. (winces) Those poor things!

Thoughts? Comments? Rants? PLEASE, do drop a word or to into the box down below! Hearing from you seriously makes my day.

Awkay, because I feel the need to run and need some sleep, I'm tuning out. Until next time, folks! I REALLY HOPE that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	4. Third

A/N: Pheeeeeew! Wrapping up this chapter took AGES. (chuckles) But, here we are. We'll see just what this chapter will bring…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, love and support! They warm my heart more than you could ever imagine. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've kept you waiting too long… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Third

* * *

Waking up wasn't easy. Everything sounded uncomfortably loud and the slowly awakening limbs felt impossibly heavy. Laura frowned, fighting against the fog filling her head.

Something… She was supposed to remember… What…? It came to her in a rush. The baby…!

She was already struggling to get out of the bed when a hand appeared to hold her down. "You bled quite a bit. And your blood pressure jumped through the roof." Only a careful ear, such of someone who knew her well, caught traces of emotional overload in Natasha's voice. "But you're stable, now, and I'd very much like it to stay that way. So no getting out of bed."

Laura honestly didn't care about her own condition. She was alive, and that was enough. "The baby?"

Natasha's face remained impressively unreadable, even to someone who knew her as well as she did. For the first time she hated it. "Tiny. And wrinkly. A little yellow, but that should fade in time. A little troublemaker, just like her dad."

A girl. A little girl. A baby. Her baby was still alive, still fighting.

Laura wanted to ask if Natasha had let Clint know. And something… It felt like something was wrong, aside the obvious. But this was all more than she could handle at the moment. She fell asleep, and dreamt of her whole family being together. The new baby she hadn't even met included.

* * *

Dr. Sarah Harris' eyes blazed hellfire as she faced several employees of the facility that was supposed to help Clint get better. She received a full report on what happened to him a few hours earlier. And she definitely wasn't impressed.

The head of the facility, a bald rat-looking man whose name she hadn't bothered to memorize, swallowed thickly. "Dr. Harris, I'm truly sorry for what happened. But let me assure you, we did everything we could…"

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Sarah gritted her teeth and counted to ten. "The sad truth is that you did do everything that was under this facility's power. But the staff here doesn't have the kind of education and experience to deal with patients like Clint Barton. Which is why he was over-medicated instead of receiving the help he needed. His condition wasn't helped by the fact that his current nutritional situation is a disaster. He's also terribly dehydrated, which put an additional strain on his system." She sighed heavily, because as much as she wanted to cursing out loud wasn't an option, and rubbed her face with both hands. "How many, twenty or thirty people work for this place. I refuse to believe that not a single one of them noticed that he wasn't improving. Why didn't anyone call for help?"

There were six people in the room with her and none of them had an answer.

Sarah had to bite her tongue to avoid spewing out something she wouldn't have regretted. "There's also another question that baffles me." Her eyes hardened. "I checked the list of medication you used to sedate him before he was hospitalized. The dosage was far too high for someone in his physical condition."

"He was hurting himself! You know the condition his hand was in!" The doctor, another name Sarah didn't bother to remember, obviously wasn't pleased with her work being criticized. "What were we supposed to do?"

Sarah stared at them in disbelief for a second. "That you have to ask me shows that you should've never taken in a patient in his condition. For future reference? These are not dangerous wild animals you're dealing with. They're human beings. And drugging someone into oblivion is never, ever the first option." Her jawline twitched. "You shouldn't have restrained him when he was medicated like that. And really…" She couldn't stop a hint of bitter sarcasm from creeping into her tone. "You shouldn't use that method of treatment at all here if you don't know the basics. He should've never been left un-monitored for so long. If Tony hadn't appeared when he did we'd be having a very different discussion right now."

The paling faces confirmed that her words hit home.

"There'll be an official investigation over what happened. It won't help Clint. But at least something like this will never happen to anyone else."

* * *

Clint had no idea where he was. It was hard to tell when everything was pitch-black. Had he gone blind? Usually even the thought would've terrified him. Now… Now it didn't even make him shiver.

Sitting on something cold and hard, he leaned his head against the equally uncomfortable wall behind him and closed his eyes. What was the point in keeping them open if he couldn't see, anyway? It felt like he was drifting although he was certain that he remained perfectly still.

He almost managed to slide so far away that he couldn't think at all anymore. Until he heard a voice. First a whisper, so thin and frail that he couldn't recognize it. Then louder. Far more desperate. ' _CLINT!_ '

His eyes flew open faster than he could see it coming. He still wasn't able to see, but it seemed like something was breaking through the suffocating darkness. "Laura…" His voice was so hoarse that it was barely recognizable. It made little difference at the moment.

Laura… Was she somewhere in this bizarre, chilling place? Was she in pain and alone? He had to… He needed to…

He gritted his teeth until it hurt and balled his fists so tightly that nails nearly dug through skin. In the dark his eyes flashed. A vicious thud made itself known in his chest.

It didn't matter if he didn't have legs. He'd crawl if he had to, no matter how much it might hurt. Because his wife needed him, and he'd be damned if he just…

He didn't holler, didn't have to. Blood seemed to turn into lava in his veins, it burned savagely on its way through. Like something that'd been dead coming back to life. It hurt worse than anything he'd ever experienced before, made him clench his jaw as hard as he could.

And through the cracks forming into the dark something was breaking through. Light, so bright it blinded him for a long time. All the colors of the world. They overwhelmed his senses, left him gasping. The thudding in his chest intensified, grew far fiercer along with the colors.

When the light, colors and pain exploded he howled.

Clint Barton came back to the woken world with a small, barely audible groan. As soon as he'd wrenched his eyelids halfway open his gaze began to dart around, even though all the light and white were incredibly painful. What happened to him? And Laura? Where was Laura? And where did that horrible beeping noise come from?

"Calm down, alright? You need to calm down." Steve's voice seemed to come from somewhere very far away. Following it, he found the blurry outline of another person. "Good, that's better. Deep, even breaths. You'll be alright."

Steve had never, ever lied to him, so Clint believed the soldier. H let his friend and team leader's firm, soothing voice ground him. He inhaled, wincing at how his chest hurt. His heart was jumping weirdly but settling down to its natural motions. Yet something… Something was wrong…

It struck him like a bolt of lightning. The dream… The scream…

This time he could see Steve's face clearly. The man seemed pale and his usually boyish features were strained. _Wrong, wrong, wrong…!_ "Laura?" He wanted Laura. He needed to see his wife, make sure with his own two eyes that everything was okay. He had to…

But his chest was hurting horribly, and so was his head. The beeping noise was growing louder and more insistent. He groaned, in pain and horribly frustrated, and used one hand to claw at where his very heart seemed to be hurting. Like it'd been actually broken by… _everything_.

Steve's eyes were stern, apologetic and comforting all at once. "She's doing okay. I promise. Right now you need some rest." His friend gave him a tiny smile. "Just sleep. The whole team's watching over you both."

Of course Clint had a million questions. But those words lulled him. Enough to soothe him into a deep and healing, dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next time Clint woke up his head was still foggy. But for the first time in ages he didn't feel hollow. No matter how long he'd slept he was exhausted, and achy. Like someone who'd just finished a marathon. He yawned, stretched and shifted, fighting a war to ignore how wrong it felt that he no longer had legs to flex. He didn't want to think about it right now, didn't want his mind to wrap around that loss when he was finally feeling almost comfortable.

"Hey, look who's waking up!" It was quite heartwarming how Tony struggled audibly to keep his volume down. There was even a long moment of silence. "Should we, eh… Talk? Or something like that?"

Clint actually grinned, barely visibly. "Tin Can, let's face it. The two of us? We're not talkers." He coughed and winced at how sore his throat was.

A glass with a straw was handed towards him. Orange juice, ice-cold. He didn't know how his friend knew his favorite recovery-drink. But he was glad.

"Nah, we're not talkers." Out of their team, they were the ones who knew best the difference between talking and saying something. It did look like there was something more on the billionaire's mind, though. "When I found you… And you wouldn't wake up…"

Clint felt his chest tighten. He could only imagine the condition he was in back then. Tony having seen him like that… "Sorry", he muttered, not looking towards his friend.

"Not your fault. Just…" Tony shifted, as though in pain or a great deal of discomfort. "Just don't do it again. Next time you fall asleep, wake up. Deal?"

"Deal."

Clint was still recovering. It wasn't a surprise that a few moments later he dozed off. This time Tony didn't wait for his awakening with his heart in his throat.

Just before sleep claimed the Hawk Tony spoke once more. "Hey, Pigeon?" The man looked into his eyes and gave a rare true and honest smile. Clearly seeing something he wasn't aware of. "Welcome back."

* * *

Dr. Harris had thought about visiting Clint, to see if he was finally awake for a chat. She stopped behind the window opening a view into the room and smiled. Gave herself a chance to enjoy the moment.

There was still work to be done. A lot of it. But for the first time the path didn't seem hopeless.

Her mind made up, she fished out her phone and dialed a very familiar number. "Hey, sis." Her eyes strayed towards Clint, who was sleeping with a peaceful expression. "I think I've got a new patient for you. He's just your type."

* * *

Clint wasn't surprised to see Natasha when he woke up again. He was, however, alarmed by the look on her face. "What's wrong?"

Natasha took a deep breath. Something that was far more worrying than anything else. "Do you think you're ready to get out of bed? Because there's something I want to show you."

How they succeeded in getting him to a wheelchair he'd never know. But they managed. A heavy silence lingered as they made their way towards a mystery-location.

Clint was tense from the start. And he grew something beyond confused upon discovering that Natasha was taking him towards the NICU. He frowned, his head spinning a little. "Nat, what…?" All words froze into his mouth.

There was a massive amount of bustling. Machinery, people… But in that sea of chaos all Clint saw was one woman, stood in front of a tiny plexi-box which contained a far smaller baby. "Laura?"

How she even heard him, he had no idea. But the second her name left his lips her head rose, and their eyes met. For a long time they stared at each other, not quite believing that they were both there. Then, as soon as Natasha had wheeled him close enough, Laura was in his arms. Sitting on his lap, arms wrapped desperately around him and face buried to his shoulder.

Clint returned the embrace the best as he could, the need to protect her at such a vulnerable moment so intense that it had him breathless. Swallowing convulsively, he moved his gaze and focused on the child Laura had been visiting. ' _Baby Girl Barton_ ' said the sticker attached to the glass separating them.

"They…" Laura cleared her throat. "They asked me to name her, but… I couldn't. Because… It would've felt like giving up. And…" She shook her head, not lifting it from his shoulder. "I'm not giving up, not when she isn't."

Everything was spinning and swaying. Clint's wide, moist and disbelieving eyes tried to take in everything. The child's slightly yellowish pallor, the barely noticeable movements of chest which machinery aided… The tubes and wires, so desperately huge that those tightly balled fists nearly got lost in the middle of them…

Natasha had disappeared at some point to give them privacy. Neither noticed. Laura's hand was unsteady while she wiped her eyes. "I… I didn't even know, before she was born. I didn't know, and… Now she's here. She's here, and it's too soon…!" She was trying to gather herself with such effort that it hurt to watch, and shifted so that she could look at the child. Grief and guilt were deeper than an ocean in her eyes. "How… I'm her mom. How could I not know?"

Clint kissed the side of her head. Still unable to make sense of it all. "Shh… It's okay."

Laura shook her head and gulped like someone about to throw up. "She… She came into the world too soon. And… They don't know if there's something wrong, with her heart." A tear, just one, traveled down her cheek. "What if… What if it's my fault? What if I broke her?"

Clint's chest twisted, turned and clenched. He kissed his wife again. "It's not your fault, you hear me?" It was his, if anyone's. He was the one who put Laura through all that stress, without even guessing… And now… "You kept her safe for as long as you could. And now we'll keep her safe together."

Laura held his hand so tightly it hurt. Sought the comfort she'd been without for far too long. "She's got your nose."

"Hey, don't insult her!"

It didn't take Laura long to fall asleep. He held on to her with all his might, determined to not let her slip through his fingers. With a deep, steadying breath he kissed the top of her head, then looked towards the baby. She seemed so very tiny, all alone in the box that kept her safe and alive. Such a frail little thing, hanging on to her life with tooth and nail.

Clint swallowed thickly, unaware of the tears filling his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with you, is there, sweetie?" he whispered hoarsely. "You just need a little time."

All of a sudden the baby began to produce feeble, barely audible mews, with such vigor that her chest expanded aggressively from the effort. At first he fretted that something was wrong, until he realized that she was just crying. Howling her will to live to the whole world. He didn't know that it was the first time she was strong enough to cry.

He wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch her just yet. He hoped, from the bottom of his aching and racing heart, that he wasn't making a huge mistake. With utmost care and affection he released one of his hands from Laura, then maneuvered it into the incubator. The second his daughter felt him there she grabbed one of his fingers and squeezed with all she had.

Clint swallowed thickly. "I'm here." He didn't know what else to promise, what else he _could_ promise, when he was so very shattered, inside and out. But he'd never said a word to his kids he didn't mean and he wasn't about to start now. "I'm here."

The baby was far too young to actually understand him, of course. But he could've sworn that the little one smiled before yawning gloriously. And then she settled for sleep. Clint could only hope that she knew her daddy was watching over her.

* * *

Hours later Sarah Harris approached the family. She smiled, looking at the infant. "Congratulations."

Clint didn't quite smile. But came very close. "Thanks." He then took a deep breath, bracing himself. "I guess you wanna have a talk, now?"

Sarah shook her head. "I need to have a talk with both you and Laura, separately and together. Several talks, actually. But not right now." She was about to grant him the breather he seemed to so desperately need. Just a little moment.

Clint's shoulders slumped from relief. He nodded, unable to tear his eyes from the family he'd come so very close to leaving behind. "'K." A minute or perhaps more ticked by. "Harris…"

She wrinkled her nose. "You're about to say something cheesy. Don't. It'd creep me out. Just… Enjoy this peace and quiet while it lasts. Because the two of us? We're not finished."

Something flashed in Clint's eyes. A spark. A start. "No, we're not." It sounded like he only just figured that out.

Clint Barton was broken, raw and at the beginning of a long road, but he wasn't finished.

* * *

It was the second time Clint Barton entered a rehabilitation center. A new day. A brand-new facility, this time far closer to Laura and the kids.

The second time wasn't any less nerve-wrecking than the first. Laura's hand was warm and strong, if not a little unsteady, in his. But now it wasn't just the two of them facing this. Tony was pushing his chair, whistling merrily to disguise how he truly felt. Wanda walked beside him, holding his other hand. Steve, ever the team leader, advanced a step or two ahead the rest of them. Like they were approaching a war-zone. Which wasn't necessarily far from the truth.

Clint wasn't faced by stares, unwanted attention and humiliation. There was only one person waiting for him. A woman with her short cut, spiked up hair dyed with the wildest shade of red, a pair of hazel eyes twinkling mischievously. Her facial features were so similar to Sarah Harris' that there was no missing the family-bond. "You must be Clint. I'm Clara Tyler, your physical therapist." She gave him a grin that somehow soothed a few of his worries. "Are you ready to get started?"

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: In the next one Clint is going home. We'll see how THAT goes…! I have a feeling that it won't be all smooth sailing. (winces)

SOOO… Good? Bad? Lukewarm? PLEASE, do let me know! I LOVE hearing from you guys.

Awkay, I really need to head to bed. Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Guest: I'm SO GLAD that you enjoyed it! (BEAMS) And THANK YOU, for pointing out that typo. (chuckles) I'm relieved that I got the chance to fix it quickly!

Massive thank yous for the review!


	5. Half

A/N: PHEEEEEEEEW! It's been AGES, hasn't it? (winces) BUT, now I'm fully devoted to bring this story to a closure. After all, only a couple of chapters left!

First, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, love and support! Those are what have kept this tale alive. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Half

* * *

Lila Barton had never liked hospitals very much. Something bad always took place when she had to visit one. Someone was sick, hurting or both. This time that someone was her new baby-sister.

It took all the courage Lila had. But finally, Cooper's protective hand in hers, she approached the incubator. Doing her best to ignore all the machinery she tilted her head, watched, observed with caution. "She's… tiny. Like Tinker Bell."

"I know, sweetheart", her mommy agreed softly. "Remember what I told you? She was in a hurry and came into the world a bit too soon." A kiss was planted to her head. "But she'll get to come home soon. And before that she needs a name. Do you two have any thoughts?"

Lila pursed her lips while watching the sleeping infant. Then smiled. "She looks like an angel."

"She does", Cooper agreed. He seemed thoughtful for a moment before looking at their mommy. "Mom, can we name her Angelica?"

The baby was far too young to actually hear, let alone comprehend, of course. But right there the little one stretched and yawned. Then emitted a very pleased, chirping sound.

Their mommy chuckled. "Well. She seems to like it. It's a deal."

"Deal." Lila then shuffled, her thoughts whirring. She bit her lip. "Do you think daddy likes it, too?"

Her mommy stroked her hair softly. "Yeah. I'm sure he will."

Cooper seemed hesitant. Weighed his words carefully before using them. "Can we… see him soon?" The boy made a point of not meeting their mom's eyes, like he was admitting to something embarrassing. "We miss him."

Mercifully Lila was too young to recognize or understand the flash on pain in their mom's eyes. "He misses you guys, too. Every second." She gave them both a hug, and laughed at Cooper's wince. "Don't worry so much, you two. You'll see him soon."

"And he still loves us. Even though he's different." It sounded like a statement, but if Lila was honest she looked for a confirmation. She had a friend at school, Emma, whose daddy got hurt, too. In a war. He wasn't the same afterwards, and didn't want to be with his family anymore. What if…?

Her mommy embraced her again, as though reading her mind. "Of course he does, you silly child. Remember what he always says? 'To the moon…'"

"'… and back.'" Somehow hearing that made everything a little better, although Lila still ached, somewhere inside. She looked towards the baby, who was sleeping soundly. "I wanna take her home with us."

Their mom smiled. "Me too. But she's still a bit too small."

"Can we have pizza instead?"

"You know what, ladybug? I think that can be arranged." Like understanding their mommy's words the baby emitted a mew. "Angel seems to agree."

Cooper grinned. Which was a rare, much longed sight, especially lately. "She's got a good taste", he observed approvingly.

* * *

Clint felt like someone had ran him over with a truck. He was exhausted, frustrated and in need of pain medication. So it definitely wasn't the ideal time for one of his sessions with Dr. Harris. Which she, of course, noticed.

Clint's eyebrow bounced up when she took her seat and put down a chess-board without saying a word.

Dr. Harris shrugged. "You're not in the mood to talk. And honestly, neither am I. This is a tolerable way to spend an hour."

Clint accepted the offer with a shrug, knowing that she'd leave him with no other choice, anyway.

They played in a rather companionable silence until Dr. Harris finally spoke out. "I hear that congratulations are in order." She didn't as much as glance his way, but he still felt her gaze. "You'll get to go home soon."

Clint tensed up and felt color fleeing from his face. He nodded slowly, his thoughts whirring. His hand was unsteady so he fisted it, anger always a safer option than fear.

Yes, apparently he'd get to return home soon. To a house that'd been altered dramatically so he'd actually manage to live in it. To his kids, who still hadn't seen how little of the old him remained. To Cooper, who always saw too much and kept too much inside, carried the weight of the world. To Lila, whose heart was too big and tender for her own good. To Nate, who'd grown up dramatically during his absence, if Laura's pictures and video clips were any indication. Would they even recognize him anymore, when he barely recognized himself? And then there was the new baby he'd barely met. As well as Laura, who'd suffered through so much while he was away. He wouldn't blame a single one of them if they decided that they didn't want him in their lives anymore, not with how badly he'd let them all down. And if they'd decide that they didn't want him… If they'd finally come to their senses and give up on him, like they according to all sense should… Who would he be without them? Then where would he go, when he couldn't even walk anymore?

He was no longer an Avenger. Would never be again. He was half a man of what he used to be. And while he'd recovered greatly from the darkest of days, he still had trouble seeing what was in his future. There were still far too many days, such as this one, when he had hard time believing that he had a future, at least a happy one.

"Yeah." He barely recognized his own voice. He glared at the chess-board like it was the source of all his problems and ache. Then made his move. "Home." Would it still be a real home?

Once again he felt Dr. Harris watching him, although he made a point of not facing her. The silence stretched while she countered his move. "I don't usually share stories of patients, so consider this a one and only time. But I feel like you need to hear this." She took a breath. "Once there was a war-veteran, fresh out of rehabilitation. Thirty-five, a husband and the father of two kids. He'd been injured in an explosion so badly that he only maintained the use of one arm. I barely got a word out of him." There was a pause, during which they both made a new move. "And then… he started getting better. He talked more, even spent a lot of time with his family and friends. I was a young idiot, and thought that maybe something I said got through to him." She inhaled and exhaled. "Two weeks after he started improving he killed himself." She was definitely staring at him hard. "I try not to dwell in the past. But I still remember the look he had in his eyes when I last met him. And as soon as I overcame the first shock of losing him, I decided that if I'd ever see that look again there's something I'd say."

Clint met her eyes, unsure what to say and if he should actually say a thing.

Dr. Harris gave him a tiny, somewhat sad smile. "You made it through something that technically should've killed you. Don't you dare waste that second chance. Because if you only see what you've lost, you may lose everything you still have left."

Clint stared. A million emotions wrestling over control inside him. Then scoffed. "That was one hell of a pep talk."

Dr. Harris shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I was just trying to distract you." She smirked, making her final move. "Checkmate."

Clint snorted. He attempted to appear appalled but didn't really succeed. "I never thought you to be the type that plays dirty."

Dr. Harris grinned. "I associate with Nick Fury on almost daily basis. What else did you expect?"

* * *

Sarah wasn't surprised to see Laura waiting when Clint wheeled out of the room. The Bartons exchanged a few murmured words and a quick kiss before the archer fled as quickly as he could. Laura sighed while watching his distancing back. "He needs a breather."

Sarah smiled sympathetically. "I'm not surprised. He's got quite a bit to chew on."

Laura took a deep breath. As though bracing herself. "How… did it go?"

"You know I can't tell you." Sarah smiled at the sleeping baby in the other's arms. "But why don't you come in for a moment? We need to have a long overdue chat, and I'm fishing for a chance to hold that little thing."

The baby emitted a very excited, chirping sound.

* * *

That night it was the beginning of Clint's last week at the rehabilitation center. He was exhausted after Sarah's session and grueling physical therapy. Which was why he was dozing off when he heard barefooted steps tiptoeing into the room, approaching him. Soon the bed dipped, and another person's warm body pressed against his.

Clint smirked, still not opening his eyes. "Laura Barton! I didn't know that you're into secret night-time visits."

"So after all these years I can still surprise you?" Laura purred and kissed him languidly. When her hands began to advance towards his most private areas he tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. "Shh… Relax. It's just me, love. Just me. Let me see you."

Clint had never been able to deny her anything. So, defying all his instincts, he allowed his arms to fall to his sides. His heart hammered mercilessly while Laura began to tug off his pants.

She hadn't seen him naked since… _then_. She hadn't seen where his legs used to be. What if she'd…?

He shivered, this time from pleasure, when she bit his neck lightly. "Shh. You're thinking too much, Barton."

She distracted him until it was too late. Until everything was exposed. His stumps and their hideous scars included. Clint waited for her verdict, his breath baited and his heart nearly still.

For a few endless seconds Laura stared, an unreadable look on her face. Then leaned down and kissed the remains of his legs. And smiled. "There you are", she murmured gently, and met his eyes. Hers were so full of love that it took his breath away all over again. "All of you."

Clint swallowed thickly, conflicted emotions raging a war inside him. He was terrified, miserable and excited all at once. "I…"

Laura shook her head. And kissed him somewhere that made his head spin. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

He had very little memories of the couple of hours which followed. When he came fully back to himself they were both sweaty, happy and sated. For the first time ages they felt like a real, proper couple. For the first time in ages Clint felt like he was more than half a man.

Laura kissed his cheek. Exactly two seconds later the clock struck midnight. "Happy Birthday, baby", she whispered.

* * *

The following day Dr. Harris was just leaving her office when she shuddered with surprise upon finding someone waiting for her. Her eyebrow bounced up and she sighed heavily. "Usually I have to beg and plead you guys to visit me. And then you start dropping off unannounced?"

Clint didn't even have the decency to appear sheepish. There was a glow to him she hadn't seen in a very long time. "I… did some research. Because I, ah… kind of have too much free time these days." He took a deep breath, searching her eyes. "That story of a patient you told me… It was about your father."

Sarah shivered. It was her most unpleasant memory. But if it was any help for anyone… She nodded slowly. "You didn't think I'd talk about an actual patient, did you?"

Clint obviously wanted to ask a lot of things. To say or do something. All he could do was nod lightly. "Thank you."

Sarah smiled. And fought a very unprofessional desire to give him a hug. "Anytime, birdie."

"You need to cut down your sessions with Stark."

Clint was just wheeling himself away when something crossed her mind. "Oh, and Barton? Happy Birthday. I should warn you about the…"

"… surprise party? Yeah, I know. Hawkeye, remember?" Clint smirked. "I'll just try to act surprised."

* * *

That evening Clint's room at the rehabilitation center was full of laughter and noise as the Avengers – Laura, Pepper and all the others included – celebrated. They knew that a mountain of gifts would've only made the archer feel uncomfortable. So they only brought food, and themselves. And that was more than enough.

Staring at the cake and all the candles on top of it, Clint suddenly realized how close he came to never facing this day. He had no idea how he was still alive. But finally, finally, he was glad that he was.

"Feathers?" Only a careful ear caught the worry in Tony's tone. The man tapped the top of his head with two fingers. "Did your hard-drive tilt or something?"

Clint smiled. And hoped that his eyes didn't seem as moist as they felt. "Nah. Just making a wish." He blew the candles.

Of course he knew that this was only a moment of calm in the middle of a thunderstorm. But he clung to it with both hands. Cherished it. Filled himself with as much strength as possible to be able to endure whatever was to come.

* * *

Forget about the explosion. Losing his legs. Realizing that he'd never be the same again. For Clint the most terrifying thing was facing his kids _afterwards_.

It was only three days to when Clint was supposed to return home. It was far past time that the kids finally met him, before he'd be at the Farm and it'd be too intense on all of them. The archer agreed with the plan, even though it scared him to death.

What kind of a parent was afraid of his own kids?

Fate, apparently, decided that the event wasn't already terrifying enough. Because that afternoon Clint suffered from the worst phantom-pains he'd ever endured. It felt like he'd been losing his legs all over again, had them sown off slowly without any medication to numb the pain.

At least he received some much-needed comfort from the feel of Laura's arms wrapped around him. "Alice will be back with the pain meds soon, okay? Just breathe." Her not exactly steady hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Honey, you keep forgetting to breathe. So focus on that, okay? Only that, and my voice."

Clint gritted his teeth so hard that it hurt and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, one hand grabbing her shirt desperately. This was ridiculous…! "I… I'm sorry…!" This was supposed to be a good day. A very exciting but good day. And now he was ruining it…

Laura held him tighter. "Barton, stop with the idiocy. You're making yourself feel worse."

"That's…" He wheezed from effort to breathe. "… possible?"

"Believe it or not, yeah", Laura confirmed. Sounding almost as miserable as he felt. The fact that he was hurting her, too, again, stung worse than anything else.

Clint wanted to swear that he was okay. Needed to apologize for making her go through this. But as it was all he had the strength for was resting his forehead against her shoulder and trembling.

Sometimes it's possible to foresee when things go from bad to worse. Often it isn't. "Daddy?"

Although the pain was worse than before, all of Clint's attention became centered on that familiar voice. So young and innocent, so very scared. He turned his head with effort to find Wanda's apologetic eyes. She was somehow juggling both Nate and Angelica in her arms. "I'm sorry. They ran off before I could stop them."

Clint's gaze fell, and the impact of what he found made a fist of ice squeeze around his stomach.

Cooper, always far too serious for someone of his age, looked pale as the boy stared at him with wide eyes. And Lila… It hurt more than anything else ever could to see the heartbreak and fear in her tear-filled eyes.

Clint had planned to meet them outside the building, in a garden. Steadily in a wheelchair, a blanket covering his missing legs. And now… Now he was a trembling, sweating and most definitely deathly pale _mess_. Worse still, his stumps were very much visible, not even bandages covering the chilling scarring. During those endless, stilled moments he was also hyper-aware of all the other… changes that'd happened to his body, and his face. Seeing him in so much pain, on top of all else…

"D-Dad?" Cooper hadn't stuttered since he was three, yet now the boy did. The child only dared to take one step forward, despite visible struggle. "What's w-wrong?"

Clint didn't have even close to enough breath for an answer. Mercifully Laura did, after a couple of large gulps. "The stumps… They hurt a lot sometimes. But it's nothing dangerous, okay? And it'll be over soon."

Cooper didn't seem sure whether to believe that or not. Lila's mind was made up faster. Shaking her head and fat tears rolling down her cheeks she took one step backwards, then another.

"Lila, sweetheart…!" Laura tried, but it fell on deaf ears.

Lila spun around, escaped Wanda's reaching out hand easily and ran off. Of course Clint knew that she wouldn't go far. But he nonetheless felt like someone had been tearing his heart from his chest.

He used to be his little girl's superhero, now he wondered if she'd ever be able to look him in the eye again.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Those poor kids…! Just imagine how traumatizing this must've all been on them. (SHUDDERS) Let's hope that the whole family will be okay!

THE AVENGERS WILL BE MORE PRESENT IN THE NEXT AND LAST CHAPTER.

SOOOO… Was that worth the wait AT ALL? Or deletion worthy? PLEASE, do let me know! I LOVE hearing from you.

Awkay, I really need to head to bed. Until next and (I can't believe it!) last time! I REALLY hope that you'll all join in for that.

Take care!


	6. Whole

A/N: PHEW! Typing this chapter too RIDICULOUSLY long. BUT, here we are, AT LAST! At the FINAL chapter. I still can't believe it.

FIRST, though…! THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, love and support. They're what have kept me all excited to wrap up this tale! (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's go! I REALLY hope that this'll be a worthy conclusion in your book.

(SOMETHING OF A SONG-INSPIRATION: 'Angel in the Night' by Basshunter)

* * *

Whole

* * *

Wanda and the kids needed a ride, of course. And maybe, just maybe, Tony kind of wanted to check up on Clint. Officially he was just bored, of course.

He'd just managed to park the car, and was on his way to Clint's room when something small and incredibly fast whistled past him. It took several seconds before he recognized the figure. His eyebrows furrowed. "Lila? What's…?" She was already gone, but not before he saw the tears on her face. Cold formed a tight ball in the pit of his stomach.

Something had obviously gone horribly wrong, and he was dreading to imagine what it was.

* * *

Through the haze of indescribable pain Clint watched, helplessly, how his son hurt. How his little girl turned and ran. He struggled, with all his might and stubbornness, to move. To follow, to do something, anything…!

"Hey, hey…!" Laura's hand was pressed firmly against where his heart was hammering and breaking. The pain in her eyes almost rivaled the one plaguing him. "I know. Trust me, I do. But, if you go after her now, like that… She'll get scared, okay? She'll come to you, I promise. She just needs to think first."

His breath wheezed. He also didn't like how his eyes felt. "But…"

"No buts." Laura kissed his forehead and wrapped her arms around him. Effectively rooting him to the spot. "I know that it hurts. But you need to sit tight and hang on. It'll get better soon, I swear. Just hang on tight."

Clint knew that she was right, of course. But right there, knowing that his little girl was hurting as badly as he was… He buried his face to his wife's shoulder, and trembled from effort to not start screaming or crying. If he did start now… He wasn't sure he'd ever manage to stop.

* * *

Lila didn't mean to run. She honestly didn't. Her mommy explained, in length, that her daddy would look different. That he was still the same daddy, inside, and there was no reason to be scared. And Lila thought that she was ready. But seeing him like that, those scars visible and in so much pain… It was too much.

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting on a bench outside the rehabilitation center, trembling from cold and shock. But eventually steps approached her. She tensed up, and didn't manage to relax even after Tony's familiar voice spoke. "It's a bit too cold to stay outside for long. Wanna go back inside? I think I could arrange us some popcorn."

Lila shook her head vehemently. Her trembling intensified, and it made her feel so embarrassed she wanted to cry. She gulped, her eyes on the legs she'd pulled tightly against her chest. "Daddy… He didn't look like daddy", she whispered, only just beginning to admit the fact to herself.

Tony, who'd taken a seat beside her at some point, sighed heavily. "I know, kid. When I saw him for the first time after… the accident, I got scared, too."

Lila frowned. Finally she looked towards the billionaire. "You did?"

Tony nodded firmly, in a manner that left no room for doubt. "I know that he doesn't look the same. He kind of isn't. And it's unfair. But… He still loves you. And he'll never, ever stop being your daddy. No matter what."

Lila knew that. And she felt silly for ever doubting, even for a second. But it was good to hear someone say that out loud. She wanted to thank Tony, but for some reason the words got stuck on her tongue. Instead she hesitated for a second, then inched closer to the man until she was able to lean her head against him. She practically melted against the comforting arm that wrapped around her as a response.

"Uncle Tony?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"You're my favorite uncle." She worried her lower lip when a thought crossed her mind. "But… Don't tell uncle Steve I said so."

Tony ruffled her hair. She leaned towards the hand eagerly, needing physical comfort after the day's stress. "Your secret's safe with me."

* * *

Cooper wanted to run away the second Lila did. Because the sight of his dad in such pain… It was more than he could take. But his feet remained glued to the floor, and all he could do was watch.

His dad never screamed, not even once. No matter how much pain he had to be in. There was an apology in the man's eyes when they found his.

"Hey." Wanda's voice almost managed to ground him. She placed herself purposefully so that she was blocking his view to his dad. It was probably supposed to be an act of kindness but it made him feel worse. She tried to smile, although she looked almost as terrified as he felt. "He just needs some medication, that's all."

Just some medication, huh? And that'd bring back the missing legs? That'd take away all the horrific scar-tissue? Tears welled into Cooper's eyes, instantly making him feel stupid.

Obviously Wanda noticed, because she leaned closer, her own eyes not exactly dry either. "The medication will help soon, okay? Then he'll feel a lot better."

Cooper tried to look towards his parents, but Wanda continued to stand in the way. Something close to a whimper erupted from him before actual words. "But… Mom said that he's doing better." Did she lie? No, no, she'd never lied. But, then… How bad were things when they were _worse_?

"He is", Wanda assured firmly but gently. "This is just a really bad moment." She offered a tiny, slightly wavering smile that was oddly comforting. "He's gonna be really thirsty when he feels better. Let's go and get some water."

Cooper nodded eagerly. He wanted to do something to help, after all. And, if he was honest with himself, he needed to step out for a moment.

Walking away, he worked his hardest to block his ears from his dad's harsh, pained breaths, and his mom's whispered words of support.

Was this how life was going to be, now? Full of those horrific moments. Full of pain and things his dad couldn't do anymore. "This…" Cooper swallowed back a sob that almost broke free. "This isn't fair."

"I know", Wanda agreed quietly, with a shuddering sigh. "But… You know how strong he is. He'll get by. And so will we."

* * *

Laura was exhausted to the bone, emotionally and physically. When Clint's pain finally subsided the relief which filled her left her nearly boneless. The dimly lit room was full of a peaceful silence while he slept lightly and fitfully, and she fed baby Angel. Nate, after making a fuss when he got startled by the earlier havoc, was now curled up between his parents, snuffling quietly as he slept.

The sight was beautiful enough to make her smile, despite everything.

Laura was so deep in thought that she almost missed the tiny approaching steps. With the instincts of a parent, she peered up to see Lila stood by the room's doorway, uncertainty and dried tears on her face. Laura was just trying to figure out what to say when it turned out that Clint hadn't been as asleep as she'd imagined.

"Hey", Clint whispered huskily, his voice thick from fatigue and medication. "I'm sorry I scared you earlier, sweetheart."

Lila shifted. Her legs and hands twitched from how badly she would've wanted to run to him, but fear rooted her to the spot. "Are you… better now?" she asked tentatively.

Clint nodded without a hint of hesitation. "'course I am, silly." And the smile on his worn, pale face spoke of sincerity. "Because my favorite people in the whole wide world are here."

That was all it took. Lila's self-restraint broke, and she dashed to the bed at such speed that made Laura gasp back a warning. She found herself tensing up when the little girl dove to her daddy's arms with what had to be a painful amount of force. It was pure luck that the child buried her face to the archer's chest, so she didn't see the agony that flashed in his eyes for a moment. Laura didn't know what Clint whispered to Lila's ear, but it made the girl cling to him even more tightly.

Minutes later, just when Lila was about to fall asleep, Cooper approached the room. Seeming unsure as to what he should do or say, the boy held up a bottle of water. "D-Do you…?"

Clint shook his head, interrupting his son gently. "I'm good." The man beckoned the hesitant-looking child to come closer. "Get over here, so I can finally give you the embarrassing hug that I was supposed to give earlier. And don't you dare say that you're too old for it. That makes _me_ feel old."

Laura didn't think she'd ever seen her far too mature for his age son's face crumble quite like that. It was horrific and beautiful all at once, something that needed to happen. Cooper shuddered, and then the tears started falling. Quickly, but fortunately far more gently than his sister, the boy joined his family on the already crowded bed. Squeezed himself closer, seeking comfort in a manner he never had before. Clint continued stroking his older son's hair until the sobs finally subsided and sleep took over. Cooper never stuttered again.

Clint should've been sleeping, too. He would've needed the rest after the day's turmoil. Instead, however, he stared at his children. A look the kind she'd never seen before on his face.

"Penny for them", Laura urged softly, one hand massaging the small of her husband's back gently. He leaned towards the touch like a kitten, seemed very close to actually purring. The sight made her want to giggle.

Clint's eyes, which still saw so very much despite the permanent damage done to them, scanned through his whole family. Full of warmth and love instead of the pain that plagued them earlier. Finally his gaze locked on hers. The look in them would've taken anyone's breath away. "Just… Remembering how lucky I am."

What is one supposed to say to something like that? Laura gulped thickly, trying to get rid of the sudden lump in her throat. "You're such a corny sap, Barton." Her tone betrayed far more than her words.

Clint grinned. Then yawned. "I know. Your corny sap."

* * *

The team members present decided to give the family some privacy after the whole ordeal. But they got nosy and… concerned. Not worried, of course, just concerned. So, eventually they peered in. The sight would've melted even the stoniest of hearts.

The family that'd gone to hell and back several times over since the beginning of the nightmare was sleeping soundly, in a massive Barton-pile.

Of course Tony had to snatch a picture. He shrugged innocently at Wanda's arched eyebrow. "What? Feathers needs a new picture to replace the one he used to carry around."

"So it's all innocent intentions?"

"Nope, not exactly." Tony's jawline hardened, unpleasant memories flooding in. "If that bastard ever thinks about letting go and giving up again… I need something to rub at his face."

Wanda nodded with approval. "Good. Give me a copy."

* * *

Very soon it was time to leave the rehabilitation center behind. Clint was beyond ecstatic. And absolutely terrified.

No longer would he have the shelter of medical professional around him. It was time to go and face a home that'd changed dramatically since he last saw it. Time to try and figure out how to continue with his life.

Far too much of his life he'd been all alone, but not anymore.

Laura and the whole team were there to escort him home. Tony had a ridiculously wide grin on his face as the billionaire put away his phone. "Pepper and the kids are all set. Just to warn you, there'll be a party waiting for you."

Clint shrugged. Did his best to appear more relaxed than felt. What if he wasn't ready, for real? What if…? "I'm assuming that there's chocolate cake?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. The way one corner of her lips twitched ruined the impact. "You think we'd dare to throw you a party without one?"

Steve, clearly seeing his anxiety, gave his shoulder a squeeze of support. There was a look of sympathy on the Captain's face. "Are you ready?"

No, he absolutely wasn't. And he was. Because apparently it was possible to be both at the same time. Laura's hand in his was solid and soothing, grounded him, and he squeezed it gratefully. "Yeah." He looked around him, saw all the friendly faces. And wondered when, exactly, his family got so big. They'd all gone through so much because of him, seen him at his absolutely worst. Yet here they were. He wasn't sure he was worthy of such devotion, but it made him feel warm. It was ridiculously good to not be alone in the world anymore. "Guys… Thanks. For everything."

Natasha smacked him upside the head. Gently, almost affectionately. "No corny stuff. You promised."

"Let's go already!" Tony whined, sounding every bit as mature as a five-year-old. "There's a cake waiting!"

It was Clint's turn to roll his eyes. The pleasant warmth from his stomach spread to all over his body. "Seems you've had too much sugar already", he assessed.

"Ten cups of coffee", Natasha corrected sullenly.

While Tony babbled about the party and cake, Steve gave the members of staff the billionaire bumped into apologetic looks, Wanda started getting excited as well and Natasha grumbled her own remarks Clint and Laura followed behind. Once they were sure the others wouldn't hear she leaned to his ear. "You're smiling", she whispered.

And how about that, he was.

* * *

A few months later Nick Fury finally got tired of Clint avoiding him, and decided to make a house-call. He'd heard reports on how hard the recovery had been, so he had no idea what to expect. What he discovered succeeded in being none of the things he envisioned.

With the damage done to his hands and eyesight there was no way Clint would do archery ever again. But there was absolutely no reason he wouldn't have been able to teach others. Baby-Angel was fast asleep in his lap while the man observed keenly. Lila, sitting beside his wheelchair and holding his hand tightly, practically held her breath. Her other hand petted a beautiful dog which also observed the events excitedly, a tail wagging and a tongue hanging out.

"A little tighter… Yes, exactly like that. Now lift the bow a little… Perfect."

Cooper, a look of intense concentration on his face, released the arrow. Excitement thickened the air before the item hit the target-board. Slamming exactly to the middle of it.

Lila cheered, loudly, and Clint exploded to praises. Even Cooper, who was usually restrained and withdrawn, shouted from joy. The baby opened her eyes and blinked rapidly, then scoffed and went back to sleep. Clearly used to her family's drama.

"Training the next Hawkeye?" Fury inquired.

Clint tensed up. "Nope. There's no way I'm letting one of my kids become an Avenger. I have enough gray hair already, and Laura would…" On the last minute the father remembered his young audience. "… be very displeased." The Hawk attempted to relax, but didn't manage it all the way. "Why don't you go and tell mom that uncle Fury came to visit? I'll be inside in just a moment."

Lila and Cooper ran off obediently, whispering something about possibly getting cookies.

Clint took a deep, steadying breath. Then focused on him. "So. Did you come to officially fire me from the S.H.I.E.L.D?"

So that was why Clint had been avoiding him. "No. I came because I've been thinking about a new job-description for you." He revealed a pile of fifteen files. "These green-nosed brats imagine that they'll be the next generation of super agents. What would you say about a chance to make them suffer?"

Clint stared in complete, utter disbelief. Then his face transformed to a smirk that would've chilled most people. "When can I get started?"

* * *

Tree years later it was time for a yet another batch of hopefuls to try and prove that they were worthy of becoming agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. They'd already done a number of exams that measured their physical, intellectual and psychological capabilities for the ridiculously hard job. And now, it was time for the final and, as a lot of people had warned them, hardest round of tests.

They'd done their best to brace themselves for anything. Still the absolutely insane-looking, terrifying obstacle course that awaited froze them all to the spot. "What the hell is that?" one of them sputtered.

"Something I designed a couple of years ago. That… would be the infamous Eliminator. I'm sure that the big boys told you about it." A scarred man in a wheelchair revealed himself, and the whole group did their best to not stare at where his legs were supposed to be. He smirked in a manner that promised no good. "I'm Clint Barton. And if you that big boy is bad… Just wait until you see the rounds to come."

"But… That looks impossible!" one candidate, a petite man with wide and scared blue eyes, whined. "How are we supposed to…?"

Clint didn't bother with words. Instead the man hauled himself up. And right before the baffled, disbelieving eyes of his audience he completed the whole obstacle course. Once again in his wheelchair he looked at them, and smirked with satisfaction at what he saw. "Not impossible unless you let it be. So, the question goes… Do you want to give up now? I wouldn't blame you, because it'll only get harder from here. Which ones of you aren't ready for that?"

The young man, a boy really, from before immediately raised a hand. Another tentative one followed. Then five.

Clint laughed. "See? It's called the Eliminator for a reason. Now…" He clapped his hands together, and several pairs of eyes locked on the missing fingers. "Those of you with your hands up, scram. The rest… Let's get started and see if you're any good."

Not unexpectedly great many candidates failed. Miserably. But out of fifteen hopeful, there were four who immediately caught Clint's eye. Especially one young girl with the sharpest green eyes he'd ever seen and wild, pitch-black hair on an angry ponytail.

She reminded him so much of himself when he was young that it was ridiculous.

She was just finishing up with the Eliminator when Fury walked in. He grunted a thank you when coffee was offered his way, the director responded with nodding towards the young rookies. "Any good?"

Clint groaned. "They get younger every year, don't they? But… I think there's some hope for a few of them." He nodded towards the girl who was finally done, and jumped gracefully to the floor. "Who is she?"

Fury grinned. "I had a feeling that the two of you might hit it off. That… would be Jay."

* * *

Fourteen years passed by far too quickly. Fourteen years full of ups, downs, pain, comfort, trials and love. And somewhere along the way Lila and Cooper became adults.

Lila didn't think she'd ever been as nervous as she was on that beautiful, sunny day of spring. Her hand trembled when she smoothened the front of her wedding dress. No, she didn't regret what she was about to do. But she was so panicked that she felt ready to throw up.

With a deep, not exactly steady breath she looked into a mirror. A small groan erupted through her lips as she eyed on her makeup critically. Then smoothened her dress again.

Ridiculous, all of this – she wasn't supposed to be one of the brides who…!

"Stop that", a soft, familiar voice admonished gently. "You look perfect. He has no idea how lucky he is."

Finally Lila smiled. Her shoulders slumped when some of the tension left them. "Thanks, daddy. But I think he does." She turned around, her lips open until all words froze into her throat.

Her daddy… was standing up.

He smiled at the astonished look on her face. "It's just for a few minutes. I couldn't imagine not walking my little girl down the isle, so… Stark decided to help out." He revealed a tiny part of a shiny-new, special-made prosthetic.

Lila stared. Her heart racing and swelling from joy. "So that's why you've spent so much time with uncle Tony!" Her excitement was, however, tarnished by the way he held himself. "But… It hurts a lot, doesn't it?"

He shook his head firmly, eyes on hers. "No, sweetheart. It really doesn't." Which was clearly a blatant lie.

Unable to hold herself back, Lila gave him a long, tender hug. Then focused on straightening his tie to hide the tears filling her eyes. "Daddy… Thank you." For so much more than enduring the agony of walking again, just for her. "I…"

"I know. Me too. Stop trying to make me cry." He gave her his arm, which she accepted eagerly. "So… Ready to go?"

Lila nodded. Because at that very moment she felt ready for absolutely anything. "I am", she stated firmly.

When the tiny room's door closed behind them it signaled both the beginning and the end, and they were both at peace with that.

"I can't believe you're wearing the unicorn-tie."

"I'm never betting with Natasha again."

* * *

End

* * *

A/N: How about that…! After all the angst, drama and pain… A happy ending! (BEAMS)

SOOOO… Was that a worthy conclusion? At all? PLEASE, do let me know! Wrapping up a tale is always a little nerve-wrecking, so I'd LOVE to hear from you.

In any case… THANK YOU SO MUCH for sticking around for all this time! For seeing this at times very sad tale through with me! You guys are PRECIOUS. (HUGS)

And who knows. Maybe I'll see you again one…?

Take care!

* * *

Guest: I'm SO HAPPY that you've enjoyed the tale thus far so much! Let's hope that the next chapter brings us a happy ending.

HUGE thank yous for the review!


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